Anthologies
by MoreThanWants
Summary: Itty-bitty pieces (mostly Outlaw Queen, but maybe some ensemble as well) that needed somewhere to go. Don't expect regular-or very large-updates, because I have no idea when I'm going to get hit with another, or how long it will be when I get done with it. I, like you guys, am just along for the ride on this one. But I do hope you like them!
1. His Shirt

So these are just itty-bitty pieces and parts of things that pop into my head (usually at the most inopportune times), and they've been sitting around on my computer for a while now. I figured after my inactivity over the past several months, I owed you guys a little something. Well, a lot something, but this is what I've got for now. hope you enjoy!

Regina stood before the mirror, slowly turning this way and that. It had been a long time since she wore leather pants. But these weren't quite the same as the tight fitting, leaving nothing to the imagination leggings of her days as the Evil Queen, instead they were thick and sturdy work pants. A green tunic of Robin's, altered some by the good Friar Tuck, was tucked into the waist band and secured with a wide belt. Knee high black boots completed the ensemble, if one could call it that, and she sighed.

She hadn't realized how accustomed she'd become to dresses and fine jewelry. She looked positively alien in this get up, but John said the way to the Palace was over grown and riddled with traps and nasty creatures. Better to be wearing something she could run—and breathe—in, should the need arise.

She looked up as someone knocked on the door, and saw Robin poke his head into the room. His breath caught at the sight of her, and he stepped fully into the room, saying, "Regina…you look—"

"Ridiculous," she interrupted, not looking at him. "I don't know why I ever let all of you talk me into this." She brought her hands up, ready to work a spell. "I'm going to—"

"No!" Robin took hold of her hands and spun her to face him. "Don't change a thing. You're beautiful."

Regina raised an eyebrow. "I'm wearing your shirt." she deadpanned.

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her knuckles with a grin. "I know."


	2. Stories

"I know there are stories about me…" she began timidly, still not facing him. Robin started to say something but she cut him off, turning around and beginning again with more conviction, "I know there are stories about me, and most of them are true, but you have to understand something, Robin." Regina looked up at him, and in her eyes he saw a frightened young girl buried under years of pain and hate. "I don't know how to do this. Not really."

He stepped forward, drawing her gently into his arms so she rested against his chest. Still standing on her own two feet, but with him just the same. "I've noticed," he said dryly, but smiled reassuringly. "But I think I could teach you." He leaned down a little, close enough to brush the tip of his nose against hers, smile widening at her quiet intake of breath. "If you'll let me," he whispered, and kissed her.

Her hands found his upper arms, not pushing away, but not letting him come any closer. As if he needed to. She sighed into his mouth, and felt him smile in return. One hand came to rest in her hair, just over her ear, and she let him tip her head gently to the left. Their noses brushed again as they parted.

"Well?" he said after a moment.

"Well what?" she replied, brow furrowing. The kiss left her breathless and her thoughts felt sluggish and half-formed. She couldn't focus on his words, only the vibration of them in his chest.

Robin chuckled, and Regina felt her knees weaken. "Will you let me teach you?"

At her blank—and still slightly dazed—stare, he continued, "A scholar I once knew said that the key to love was knowing how to argue. You—"

"A scholar who knows of love?" she interrupted incredulously with an arch of her eyebrow.

He raised his in return and continued, "You have to find someone who will tell you if they think you're wrong, but not rub your face in it or hold it against you for eons down the road. And who won't get offended if and when you do the same. I think we have that bit down," he added as a smile inched its hesitant way across her lips.

"You can't let it turn into a fight," she said, and he nodded.

"It can't be two people battling against one another, but with two different points of view trying to understand each other."

She nodded along with him and thought for a moment. When she looked at him again, Robin saw some of the fear fade away, only to be replaced by worry. "I can't make any promises," she said quietly.

"I don't expect you to. In fact, I might be a little worried if you did." He squeezed her arms gently, stroking the ball of her shoulder with his thumb. "We have quite the tempers, you and I."

I know it cut off really quick, but honestly that's the way most of them are. I get snippets of conversation to write down, not entire scenes. This is one of the longer ones, actually. Hope you liked it!


	3. Apologies and Warnings

"Oh, Snow?" Regina called after the Charmings as the little family made their way to the door.

"Hm?" The princess turned back to her former step mother, shifting Neal's baby bag more securely onto her shoulder.

"There's something I've been meaning to...apologize for," Regina marveled at the bundle of nerves that settled in the pit of her stomach. Snow's brow creased in silent question, and she continued, "You remember, a couple of years ago...someone spray painted your car?"

The princess' brow creased further, and then her eyes widened in surprise and not a small amount of anger. "That was _you_?" she squeaked indignantly.

Regina winced. "I'm sorry. Back then the curse was still affecting my memory and Kathryn was the closest thing to a friend I had, and well, I couldn't let you win," she finished, her voice adopting the Evil Queen's growl. Her eyes glittered with the amusement they could now afford that awkward limbo.

Snow's lips twisted in a displeased line. She glanced over her shoulder at her husband, standing by the door with their son, waiting patiently for her. "Regina, you cast the curse, how could it have effected your memories?" she huffed, readjusting the baby bag again.

"Instead of replacing my memories, it...augmented them, I guess you could say. It's how I managed not to call you Snow for twenty eight years." She risked a smile.

"But that isn't the point. The point is, I'm sorry, Snow. I am." Regina's smile grew as Roland's laugh echoed from the living room. "I shouldn't have tried to keep you from your family."

Snow's frown smoothed into a neutral expression and she didn't say anything for a moment. Just as Regina was about to ask her if anything was wrong, she asked, "Regina, what brought this on? I'd honestly almost forgotten about it."

Regina shrugged. "I just... We've put so much behind us this past year; I wanted to make sure we got all of it out. And," her hand smoothed over her growing stomach, "let's say my conscience demanded it."

Snow nodded, the calm still controlling her features. "I'm about to grin, you ready?" She said, voice trembling with curtailed emotion.

Regina raised an eyebrow. "What, I get a warning now?" she quipped.

Snow let out a very un-princess like snort. "Only because of your condition," she replied, and opened her arms with a grin.

Regina scoffed and stepped forward, into her former step daughter's embrace. "Foolish girl," she muttered, and Snow's chuckle bubbled in her ear.

"Evil step mother," she retorted.


	4. Making Things Right

"She's dead, Regina," he said, staring at her from across the island, blue eyes burning into her very soul. Why did he have to do that? He knew she couldn't think straight when he looked at her like that.

"No, she isn't," she retorted tiredly, folding her arms across her chest and hugging herself. "She's upstairs at Granny's right now, waiting for you—"

"To me. She's dead to me, Regina." Robin started around the island toward her, and she saw his hands for the first time since she let him come inside. His fists were clenched so tightly she thought his knuckles might break through the skin, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, just enough to reveal strong forearms and his tattoo.

Regina couldn't breathe. How could he come back to her—broken, battered, _evil_ her when his wife, his first love and the mother of his child was _back from the dead_ and waiting for him? "What?" was all that came out of her mouth, and even that single syllable was strangled and cut off.

"Marian…" He still spoke her name with a tenderness in his voice; a similar tone to what he said her name with, but not quite the same. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if what he was about to say pained him to even think, but he opened his mouth anyway. "She's not the same as she was…as I remember her. Sometimes I think I turned her into more than she was for Roland's sake. Always happy, always laughing at something I or one of the other Men did, but…she doesn't, not anymore. She jumps at every breaking twig, hides whenever anyone suggests going into town. She won't hear of—" He falters for a moment, eyes sweeping over Regina's face. She's listening, if tentatively. The crease between her brow tells him she thinks she knows what he's about to say. "She won't hear of how you've changed," he finished in a whisper. "She…she snapped at Roland when he tried to tell her about you. About how you saved him in the Forest, the times we spent together here." He swept his arm out to encompass the kitchen and living room in the gesture, and her eyes follow it, phantom copies of themselves and Henry and Roland flaring up before her eyes.

Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered that last day before the fire, when she told him everything she should have that day in the farmhouse, when she first saw his tattoo. She felt the tears threaten the backs of her eyes again, and tried to summon the courage to fight them back. "Robin…." she whispered brokenly.

"She isn't the same, Regina," he continued, coming closer, reaching out to take her hands in his and raising them to his chest. She could feel his heart pounding through his shirt, knew it was beating in time with hers, "She isn't the woman I married," he whispered, "she isn't the woman I love."

Regina let out a sob and his arms came around her shoulders, pulling her to him and she rested her head against his collarbone, burying her nose in his chest. Robin wove one and gently into her hair, stroking slowly through the dark locks. He dipped his chin slightly and breathed deeply through his nose, filling his whole being with the scent of her.

"Your hair's getting long," he mused into the silence, not stopping his ministrations.

A watery laugh forced its way past her lips. She tightened her grip around his middle, pulling him impossibly closer and replied, "It wasn't a consciousdecision, really, it just sort of happened one day." She lifted her head from his chest and he smoothed a hair from her face and tucked it gently behind her ear. "You said you liked longer hair," she added, meeting his eyes.

Robin's slow smile mirrored hers and he said, "Indeed I do, milady."

They looked at each other for a long while, simply standing in each other's arms. His head seemed to dip slightly, and his eyes flickered to her lips, but before anything could happen, Regina whispered, "What are we going to do, Robin?"

His brow creased, and one thumb stroked gently over her cheek bone. "What do you mean?" he replied.

"You can't just leave her and come straight here to me," she explained, even as the words caught in her throat. "She isn't of this realm, she has no idea how to live in a world like this. It's downright _dangerous_ if you don't know how to look out for yourself."

"I…she…." Robin stuttered, mind reeling at the fact that he hadn't actually thought about what leaving Marian would mean, outside of being free to be with Regina. "What are you saying?" he finally asked, taking a deep breath.

"I'm saying…" What was she saying? That he should stay with his wife for the time being? How long was that; a week, a month? What if he decided he still loved her too much to leave her in that time? But what if something happened? There were cars, the docks, any number of dangers for someone to unknowingly submit themselves to. "I'm saying that, for right now at least, maybe you should stay…with her." The words tasted like sand in her mouth.

Robin's eyes widened, and in any other moment she would have laughed at the ridiculous look on his face. "Regina, what—?"

"Just until she gets accustomed to Storybrooke," she said hurriedly, hands gripping his jacket sleeves. "And I don't mean…like that," she added, "just that…. Well, you've been here longer. And she trusts you, she'll listen to you."

"Regina, Marian is a grown woman, she can take care of herself." Robin said, exasperation tinting his voice.

"I have no doubt of that; she lived with you and the Men for who knows how long, anyone would be able to look after themselves after that, but—" She paused and shook his arms slightly, "—that was in the Forest. There are cars here, being driven by people who have had the same routine for thirty years. They might not see her one day and…." Her voice broke, surprising them both, and she cleared her throat.

"I took Roland's mother from him once," she continued quietly, still unable to meet his eyes when this subject was breached. "I won't let it happen again, not when I can do something about it."

"You can't know that it will happen," Robin soothed, cradling her cheek in his palm and raising her face to meet her eyes. "She will be fine."

_And I can't know that it won't, either,_ Regina thought, searching his deep blue gaze. Why didn't he seem to care whether or not his wife was safe here? One would think he'd be falling over himself trying to teach her how to live and thrive in the Land Without Magic. Especially if he were coming home with Regina.

She took a deep breath and played her last card. "If you won't do it for Marian, would you do it for me?"

"What?" Robin asked, crease between his brows deepening.

"If I asked you to teach Marian how to live safely here, would you?"

For one impossibly long moment, he simply stared at her. Then the slow smile spread across his face again and he dipped his head to kiss her quickly. "This is why I love you," he murmured, and kissed her again. "Yes, I will show her how to stay safe here."

Regina smiled and raised herself up onto her toes to press her forehead to his. "Thank you," she replied in an equally hushed tone. "Thank you for helping me make things right."


	5. Doors

"Please don't run away," he whispered, stepping closer.

She lifted her chin ever so slightly to look him in the eye. "I don't want to," she replied, voice barely more than a sad, scared breath.

He raised one hand, nearly touching her cheek, and leaned closer.

Her eyes had just flickered closed and her hands moved to rest against his chest when the damn door opened. Her head veered away from his, eyes flying open and fixing on a point over his shoulder, and she froze.

"Robin, we're ready—oh," one of the Merry Men stood in the doorway, confusion and embarrassment swirling over his features. "Uh, sorry. We're ready to go when you are."

The man paused, doorknob in hand, before adding, "And they're ready for you, Your Majesty."

"Thank you," she said to the wall.

Then, mercifully, he was gone.

She stepped around and away from him, making a beeline for the door.

"Don't run away, Regina," Robin said again, a note of pleading taking root in his voice.

She paused, blinked, but didn't turn.

She left the door open for him to follow.

After a moment, he did.

A/N: Another short one. I'd meant to post the story previous to this one as a standalone for Outlaw Queen Week, but I was on vacation and where we were didn't have wifi. Anyway, just another snippet for you to read over.


	6. Language

"Then cuss and spit!" Emma sniped, losing her patience.

"Can I really?" Henry brightened immediately, raising his eyebrows.

"No." Regina said quickly, leveling a withering look at the bickering pair. "There's enough language in this house already between you and your pirate, Ms. Swan, don't go giving our son any ideas."

Emma had the decency to look abashed before nodding and giving Henry a pointed stare of her own.

A/N: I told you they'd be small sometimes. Just a quick scene inspired by my mom and sister last night.


	7. Names

A/N: This bit is actually inspired by a story I'm reading called _Take these broken wings _by Ierpier here on , so if you'd like to understand what's going on here, head on over there right quick!

"What is your name?" she asked, all caution and manners.

I smiled as I cleared the area before the door. "Caílin," I replied, not looking at her. "At your service, milady."

She laughed, a quiet, shy little noise. The real thing was probably far too "unladylike" for her monstrous mother's ears. "That's a pretty name," she said.

I turned to her, shrugging. "It means 'girl' in the old language. My father was dead before I was born, and my mother didn't live after my birth, so…I guess it really does take a village. But you would think a whole village could come up with a better name."

"It's pretty," she insisted. "Not at all like mine, all stuffy and self-righteous." _Like my mother_, she left unsaid, but I could almost see it on the tip of her tongue.

I gaped at her, mouth snapping shut with a painful clack of teeth. "Do you know what your name means, milady?" I asked incredulously.

Her eyes filled with trepidation, and she shook her head shyly. Oh, this girl was going to be the death of me….

"Milady, 'Regina means _queen_." I said. "Calling you Queen Regina would just be…redundant."

"Self-important." she agreed, the closest thing I had seen to anger swirling in her dark eyes. Then she looked at me, and I was reminded that without her status as noble-born and Robin's intended, we were near the same age, little more than young women.

_Too young,_ I thought. _What is Robin thinking?_

"So…what are you to call me then?" she asked, "From what I've seen so far, yours is a very…succinct people. Am I to be simply 'Queen'?"

I smiled, and tried to lay some of the worry etched onto her face to rest. "No, milady. You will be Regina to us. Just Regina."

Regina smiled.


	8. Departure

Regina stared after Amí as her conscience strode purposefully away. Her hands clutched at her belly, feeling the baby inside shift and push against its—_her—_confines. "A-Amí!" she cried.

The faun didn't turn, only called over her shoulder, "Raise her well, Regina, I'm counting on you." With one last emerald glance, she was gone, disappearing through the time portal. The amber beam of light flared at her entrance, then narrowed to a sliver and disappeared entirely.

And for the first time since before the First Curse, Regina's thoughts were solely her own. She had never felt more lonely in her life.

Robin approached, slowly, and wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her against him. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly, tucking his head into the hair near her ear.

"I…I don't know." Regina replied, gripping the hand Robin had on her hip and reaching for the other. He gave it readily, weaving his fingers with hers.

"I know this is most definitely the wrong time, but…did what she way mean what I think it means?" he asked, holding her tighter to him as she began to shake.

"I…yes," Regina whispered. "Amí is my—our daughter." She looked up at him for the first time since entering the barn, tears making her eyes glow in the half light. A smile broke across her face for a moment, as it did whenever she spoke of her children, mirroring his. Then it wavered under the weight of the tears and whirl of emotions in her mind.

"How?" Robin questioned.

"I don't know," she replied, lifting her shoulders in a half hearted shrug. "I guess we'll find out."


	9. Powder and Plum

A/N: This little snippet features two little girls who popped into my head one night and decided they quite liked it there. Also I was planning a description for an Outlaw Queen child and couldn't decide on which one to use, so I thought, "Why not use both?" This is what happened.

"Mama, Mama!" The sound of her daughter's fear-laden voice snatched Regina from her doze on the couch. She was mounting the stairs before her eyes were fully open, calling, "I'm coming!" as reassuringly as possible.

Hana met her on the landing, blue eyes wide and terrified. "It's Bekah," she whimpered tearfully at Regina's—slightly breathless—inquiry as to what was wrong, pointing to the bedroom she shared with her twin. "She's on fire."

"_What?"_ Regina exclaimed, wrapping an arm around her daughter and drawing her down the hall. Hana clutched at her mother's hand, squeezing her fingers with all her four year old might.

Rebekah Mills-Hood sat on the floor of her room, arms wrapped around her knees, rocking back and forth. Tears streamed down her face as thickly as the sky blue smoke that billowed from her finger tips. Catching sight of her mother and sister at the door, she sobbed, "Mama, help me!" and Regina's heart broke.

"It's alright, baby, it's alright," Regina soothed, kneeling before her fair-haired daughter. She didn't move to touch her, wouldn't until she was sure the magic surrounding her was passive. "Hana, go and find Rollie for me, okay? Tell him Mama says to call Papa."

Hana looked pensively at her sister. Rebekah bit her lip and blinked as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. "Bekah…." Hana whimpered, and made to step into the room.

"Hana, go find your brother." Regina's voice rang with command, and both her daughters flinched. That was Mama's "I am the Queen and you will listen to me," voice that she used on the people in town, when they were being idiotic, or on Auntie Snow and Uncle David, when they were being_ really _idiotic. Or on Papa, but only sometimes.

But she had never used it on any of the children before. Ever.

Hana whined in her throat as she turned around, and Regina closed her eyes momentarily as her footsteps fled down the hall. Her girls were inseparable at the best of times, but in moments of high emotion—like one of them appearing to be on _fire_—it was nearly impossible. She would sit down with Hana later; at the moment her thoughts were consumed with the fair haired little girl in front of her.

Her Rebekah. The spitting image of her father, and her little princess. Her bottomless blue eyes stared into Regina's, searching for the reassurance and love she so desperately needed from her mother. Her lips quivered uncontrollably, barely letting in enough air for her to breathe. Her little hands clenched and unclenched in the fabric of her pants; Regina could see her fingers quivering with the force of her grip.

"Bekah," she murmured carefully, still not reaching to touch her. "Can you tell me what happened, honey?"

"I'm on fire, Mama," her daughter sobbed, and Regina felt tears of her own spring to her eyes. "My hands are on fire."

"Do they burn, sweetheart? Do they hurt?"

"No, but they're smoking. Look!" Bekah turned her hands, palm up, towards her mother, and the pale blue smoke swirled into the empty space between them. "Mama, what's happening to me?" she wailed.

She had magic. Rebekah, her child, her_ first born daughter_, had magic. Regina's head swam with the realization. They had known it was a possibility, the children having gifts similar to Regina's, when she first discovered her pregnancy. Had spoken to Gold and to Whale about the magical and medical repercussions, and even to Granny, who had experience raising a child with abilities that would need to be monitored. But never, never in a million years, had she thought that the girls' powers—if either of them had any at all—would manifest so soon.

And yet here she was sitting across from her daughter, trying not to cringe as the smoke curled almost inquisitively toward her. "I see, honey.

"Rebekah, you know how Mama has magic?" Rebekah nodded, sniffing loudly. Nothing seemed to move and she coughed. "And Mama's magic sometimes makes a purple cloud?" She swirled her hand, stirring a bank of plum cumulus clouds into existence. Rebekah nodded again. "Well, it looks like you can do the same thing, dear."

Rebekah looked down at her hands. The smoke turned slowly into fluffy clouds closely resembling her mother's example. She gasped, surprise sweeping away the fear of a moment before, and she brushed her hand through the blue cloud. "I can do magic?" she exclaimed.

Regina smiled brightly. "It appears so, sweetheart. But you have to be careful, okay?" She waited for the little girl to look at her and nod before continuing. "Our magic is connected to our feelings. We have to be extra careful not to lose our tempers, or something could happen." Regina let the coil of motherly fear tighten around her heart and the fluffy purple clouds turned into a miniature storm front, complete with thunder and lightning, before dissipating completely.

Rebekah's eyes widened and she nodded again. "Okay, Mama," she said.

"That's my girl," Regina said, scooping her daughter into her lap and kissing her where her neck met her shoulder. She still smelled like toddler and baby soap, but there was something else now, on the edge of it. A hint of magic.

Footsteps thundered up the stairs, and a breathless Robin burst through the door, crying, "I'm here, I'm here! What is it?"

Regina couldn't help but smile at the alarmed look on her husband's face. "It's alright now, Robin. The girls were frightened for a moment, but we've got it sorted out, right?" she looked down at Rebekah, who nodded emphatically.

"I have magic, Papa!" she exclaimed proudly.

The former outlaw looked incredulously between his wife and daughter and the clouds of colored smoke drifting around them. He blinked wordlessly, mouth hanging open in astonishment. "Magic," he murmured, slowly sinking to his knees on the carpet.

"Yes," Regina answered, feeling Bekah tense and cuddle closer. She tightened her hold on her gently, squeezing both her little hands in one of her own. Robin's feelings on magic were a type of no-man's land in the family. Nobody talked about it or mentioned it at all. Papa loved Mama, and Mama loved Papa, and that was that. Magical abilities and past criminal behavior didn't enter into it.

"We knew this was a possibility, Robin," Regina continued carefully, watching him as his eyes roved from one cloud bank to another.

"I know," he replied, nodding his head. "I just thought…."

Rebekah was starting to fidget, and her magic with her, so Regina helped her stand and quickly showed her how to "put her magic away" and sent her downstairs to Hana and Roland, waiting in the living room.

"What did you think, dear?" she asked, sitting next to Robin against the wall.

"Just…that it would take longer. They would be older. Does Hana have it?" he asked suddenly, meeting her eyes for the first time since entering the room.

"I don't know," Regina replied, shaking her head. "Possibly. Possibly not. But it's not like Rebekah has some sort of disease, you know. It's just magic." She flinched as soon as the words left her mouth. They both knew in no uncertain terms that there was no such thing as "just magic".

Robin hung his head. "Four years old. She's just four years old, Regina."

She laid her hand on his arm, stroking comfortingly. "I know. That just means we can start her schooling soon; when they start kindergarten, even. It's alright, Robin," she insisted as he shifted to lay his head on her shoulder. "There's nothing to be afraid of," she whispered. "She isn't alone. I can teach her—the_ right _way—how to control it. And there are others, too."

"I know. But it won't stop me from worrying," her husband replied, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer.

"Me either," Regina said, pressing a kiss to his temple as the laughter of their children echoed up the stairs and the last remnants of magic faded from the room.


	10. Now What?

"I know a way," Amí said, leaning against the arm of the couch and touching Regina's shoulder lightly.

"We're not cutting her hair," Robin growled from his chair. The faun had threatened such a solution on a similar previous occasion. She insisted it was in jest, that she would never actually cut Hana's—or Rebekah's hair without express permission from _both _her parents, but Robin remained a little suspicious.

Amí grinned, remembering said occasion differently it seemed. "No, that wasn't what I was going to say. I was going to suggest just washing her hair."

"Wouldn't the rubbing just tangle it further?" Regina said, still idly fiddling with the ends of her dark-haired daughter's locks. Hana gazed mournfully up at her aunt Amí. Her head and neck were sore and it felt as if a million ants were marching across her scalp.

"I don't wanna take a bath," she whined, leaning back into her mother's chest.

"I know baby, but it might help get your hair untangled." Regina replied soothingly, patting her chubby little thigh.

"Besides, you won't be taking a bath, Hana-bear, you'll be taking a _shower_." Amí smiled wide as the little girl's eyes lit up.

"Like a big girl?" she asked excitedly.

Amí nodded. "Just like a big girl."

Hana's parents smiled as she shot off Regina's lap, leading the way up the stairs to the bathroom. "Race you!" echoed down to them.

"Good luck with that," Robin chuckled, moving to sit by his wife, clasping her hand.

"We probably won't be able to get her out now," Regina agreed.

Amí just smiled and followed her adopted niece upstairs.

Hana was already half undressed by the time Amí arrived, and was trying to get the water started while taking her shirt off at the same time.

"Whoa there, kiddo, slow down," she said, catching the four year old under the arms just as she lost her precarious balance. "Let me help, okay?"

"Okay." Hana held up her arms so her shirt could be gently pulled over her head. "Now what?" she asked as Amí adjusted the water temperature.

"Now…watch!" Amí tugged on the tap triggering the water to stop flowing into the bathtub and start raining down from the shower head.

Hana giggled as her tangled hair was dusted with water droplets and tiny waves lapped at her toes. She clapped her hands in the spray, giggling harder as the water spewed into her face.

"Okay, Hana, turn around so I can get your hair nice and wet." Amí instructed, kneeling next to the tub and rolling up her sleeves. "Tip your head back a little; there you go." She helped the little girl wet her hair down and simultaneously keep the water out of her eyes.

"Now what?" Hana asked again.

Amí chuckled. _Just like Henry,_ she thought. "Now we put the shampoo in. Step this way, out of the water." She opened the baby shampoo and squirted some into her palm.

The faun gently worked the shampoo into Hana's tangled hair, telling her stories (some made up, some true) and answering her myriad of questions.

"Okay, girly-girl, now that your hair's all soapy, we can start untangling it." she said after several minutes, resting her elbows on the side of the tub.

"With a brush?" Hana asked, eyes growing pensive.

"We can, if you want. Or we can just use our fingers." The little girl's eyes lit up.

They worked for several more minutes, gently combing their fingers through Hana's hair. She got scared momentarily when some of her dark hair came away between her fingers, but Amí assured her it was alright.

"Sometimes when our hair gets bad tangled like this, the only way for it to come undone is for it to break. But the glory of hair is that it grows; which is exactly what I'm going to be telling your parents when we get done."

Hana giggled. "Now what?"

A/N: So this one ended up longer than I thought it was. A couple things inspired this: I just got back from a vacation (Happy Labor Day, my fellow Americans) and my adorable little cousin came along. She loves to ask questions. And I had to use the shampoo trick to untangle my own hair (beach humidity and breezes don't mix with curly, frizzy hair). And I missed writing Amí, too.


	11. My Little Pyro

"And that stream of flame; I've never seen anything like it," Robin squeezed her closer to his side and tucked his chilly nose into her warm hair.

Regina smiled and wrapped an arm around his waist. "Believe it or not, I got it from a cartoon Henry used to watch."

"Oh yes?"

"Mm. Can you guess what they called it?" She smiled up at him from under her lashes,

Robin stopped them and swung her around in front, holding her close. "I'm sure I have no idea," he said, pressing his forehead to hers.

Regina's smile grew and she conspiratorially murmured, "Flamethrower." before bursting out laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

Robin chuckled along with her, though not knowing quite why, and kissed her lightly on the end of her nose. "My little pyro," he whispered.

A/N: Pure, unadulterated—slightly crackish—fluff. I have no idea where they are coming from, or where exactly they're going, but they're being absolutely adorable while they're doing it. And I refuse to believe Henry didn't watch Pokèmon as a kid, because who didn't?


	12. No More Than Two

"I broke the rule," his mother slurred, leaning heavily against his stepfather.

Henry arched an eyebrow. "Which one?" he asked, knowing full well _which one_, but he wanted the satisfaction of hearing it come from her.

Regina held up her free hand, fingers wavering between five and two. "Nn…no more than two." she said on a giggle.

Robin chuckled. "I believe your mother has imbibed a bit too heavily in the strong drink." He pushed their combined weight off the door jamb into the house.

Henry smirked, closing the door behind them and following the staggering couple into the living room, where Robin half-laid, half-dropped Regina (who was no help at all) onto the couch.

"So, guys, did you have fun?" Henry asked, smiling knowingly down at his downright giddy mother.

"You know it," the Queen chuckled heartily, eyes starting to drift closed.

Robin nodded, patted him lightly on the shoulder as he went to the kitchen for a glass of water.

"I'm sure you want to know how our night went," Henry prompted, sitting at his mother's feet.

"Yes, how was Roland? I trust he was well behaved." Robin returned from the kitchen, helping a half-asleep sit up against him and take several sips of water.

"Of course he was," Henry replied, smiling.

A/N: No more than two is my mom's rule, too.


	13. Her Mama's Heart

"You can say that, though," Rebekah insisted, fisting her hands in the blankets with frustration. "You're gorgeous, Hana. You look just like Mama."

Hana smiled, as she always did whenever anyone likened her to her mother. But her smile was tinged with sadness this time. Couldn't Bekah see? "You do too, you know," she replied, taking one of her sister's hands in hers, tugging lightly at her fingers to relax her grip on the comforter. Rebekah snorted and started to say something, but Hana continued, "You do. You have her smile, when you look at someone you love. Or when you're angry; your vein pops out just like hers does." They shared a giggle at that. "And you have her heart, Rebekah. Maybe that's hardest to see because it's always there, but you have Mama's heart. And that's what makes you so beautiful." Tears of her own streamed down Hana's cheeks, over her smile.

Rebekah let out another sob and wrapped her arms around her sister, pulling into a soggy, suffocating hug. "And you give the best hugs," Hana added, earning another watery chuckle.

After several minutes of simply sitting together, Rebekah pulled back, wiping her eyes. "I lied," she started, and explained at Hana's furrowed eyebrows, "you're the best sister ever."

Hana sniffed, smiled, wiped her own eyes and replied, "No, dear, that's _you_."

They were still laughing when Regina knocked lightly and poked her head around the door. "Parents allowed in yet?" she asked gently, making no move to further enter the room.

Hana looked to Rebekah, who swallowed and took a deep breath before nodding firmly. Regina smiled a little and stepped in, leaving the door cracked. She looked on edge, weight resting on the balls of her feet, as if she wanted to spring forward and wrap her girls in her arms, but worried she might not be well received.

The Mills-Hood women stared at each other pensively for several moments. Then Rebekah sniffled and held out her arms like a toddler wanting to be held. "Mama."

And they were crying again.

A/N: Since the response to 'Powder and Plum' was so great (thanks bunches, by the way) the Mills-Hood girls have been running through my mind a whole lot more. They're considerably older here, as you might have gathered, around fifteen or sixteen years old.


	14. The Sorcerer's Apprentice

"You promise you've got it?" Regina asked again, folding her coat over her arm and grabbing her keys from the side board in the front hall. Henry padded after her, text book stowed under his arm.

"Promise and swear," he replied, smirking cheekily at his mother's half-serious glare at his choice of words.

Robin, waiting patiently by the door, said—for the fourth time already, "He'll be fine, Regina, we're only going out for a few hours."

_What could possibly go wrong?_

Regina looked back at the outlaw and sighed. He was right, of course he was. Henry was nearing fourteen, if he couldn't handle a few hours home alone while his parents went out to dinner, there was more to worry about than whether or not he got to bed on time.

"Alright." She kissed him quickly on the forehead and brushed his hair back. "Don't stay up too late, make sure all your homework and chores are done before you go to bed, and no trash TV."

"Yes, Mom," Henry dutifully answered, smiling as his mother joined his step-father at the door. "Have a good time."

"Thanks, Henry." Robin smiled over Regina's head and started down the front steps to the sidewalk.

He was just turning around to go back to the living room when Regina poked her head back through the door. "Oh, and Henry?"

He tried not to sigh too heavily as he turned around. "Yes, Mom?"

His mother's dark eyes bored into his. "No magic while I'm gone, do you understand?"

Henry nodded. "Yes, Mom."

Her face broke into a smile as she said, "Good night, dear."

"Good night."

He did do his homework. And he did put the dishes in the sink into the dishwasher, and fold his laundry. He didn't even watch the paparazzi news show that his mother despised. In truth, it was shaping up to be a very rule-abiding night for Henry.

That is, until he knocked his glass off the counter, sending glass shards and milk halfway across the kitchen. With fifteen minutes until his parents were to return home, and he was supposed to be in bed.

Several words that he _definitely_ learned from the Merry Men left his mouth in a harried whisper, and he rushed to grab a towel and start mopping up the damage. It only took about two minutes for him to realize it wasn't working nearly fast enough.

_No magic while I'm gone, do you understand?_ His mother's words echoed in his ears. But surely she would understand if he just used one little cleaning spell? It wasn't hard; he'd done it before, putting a knocked over vase back together again, complete with fresh water for his mother's roses.

Henry took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. Magic was emotion, his mother and grandfather had pounded that into his head since he went to them asking to learn magic. You had to be in absolute control at all times, or the magic would destroy you and everything around you. But he had it. He could do it.

Raising his hands, Henry called his magic to his finger tips, smiling slightly as the pale orange smoke billowed into existence. He directed the smoke to the floor, sending it skittering among the glass shards and puddles of milk.

One plume of smoke swirled around the pantry door, where the cleaning supplies were kept. Henry nodded thoughtfully and flicked his wrist, opening the door from across the room. His magic picked up a bucket, filling it with soap and water and plopping a mop into the suds. A broom and dustpan followed it out into the kitchen, and Henry's magic started cleaning up the mess.

Henry smiled and lowered his hands. Easy.

He left the cleaning up to the tools and went upstairs to change into his pajamas. Just as he was turning off the tap after brushing his teeth, he heard the front door open. _Oh, sh—_

"Henry_ Daniel Mills!" _His mother shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

He was dead. So, so dead.

"C-coming," he called, padding slowly down the stairs. He came to a stop in the entry way to the kitchen, and his jaw dropped.

The mop was on the kitchen counter, scrubbing away at his mother's bowl of apples. The broom and dustpan were sweeping up the mail left on the island, and the bucket had emptied itself on the floor.

Regina stood in the middle of it all, soapy water lapping gently at her high heels and she glared motherly daggers at her son as he came into view. "What is_ this?"_ she growled.

Henry glanced around, eyes landing momentarily on Robin, who returned his gaze stonily. "Um…."

"Henry." His mother hated it when he was evasive.

"I spilt some milk," he muttered, looking at his feet.

"_Excuse me?"_ Regina raised her son to look her in the eyes when he answered her.

Henry cleared his throat and lifted his head. "I split some milk, and I tried to clean it up."

"And how did all this happen?" She raised her hand and the cleaning tools fell to the floor with a clatter.

"I, um…" He cleared his throat again at Regina's raised eyebrow. "I used my magic."

"You did _exactly _what I told you not to," she clarified, hands on her hips.

He gulped and nodded.

"Why?"

"Y-you were going to be home soon, and I knew I was already supposed to be in bed. It was just that cleaning spell you showed me!" Henry added plaintively. "I've done it before; I thought it would be easy."

"You've done it under my supervision. And you certainly didn't leave the spell unattended for however long."

Henry felt his bottom lip start to wobble. "I'm sorry, Mom," he mumbled, breaking eye contact and looking at his feet again.

Regina sighed and took a moment to look around at her kitchen. The apples were fine, if for a few bruised places; the mail was still readable inside the envelopes, and the water would be a snap to dry up. She glanced at Robin, leaning against the counter. He returned her gaze steadily, a small smile warming his eyes.

"It's alright, Henry," she said, letting her hands fall from her hips. She walked to her son, footsteps making tiny splashes on the soaked floor. She put her hands on his shoulders. "But you really should've just cleaned it up yourself. Magic is a gift, a tool to be used when necessary, not a short cut. You know that, right?"

Henry nodded, sniffing.

Regina nodded along with him, reaching one hand up to stroke through his hair. "Let's get it cleaned up," she said after a moment of holding him close. "The _right_ way." She pushed him back to meet his eyes again.

Henry nodded, risking a small smile.

A/N: So this was supposed to be just another drabble, but it kinda grew. Inspired by "The Sorcerer's Apprentice," by Paul Abraham Dukas. I heard it in the car one day and, well…_this _happened. Hope you guys enjoy!


	15. No Filter

"I've seen it in animals before, you know," Amí said, flopping down onto her back beside Regina. "Trumpet swans mate for life, and if one of the pair should die—"

"You did _not_ just compare me to a swan," Regina huffed, putting an arm over her face.

Amí flinched, finding her hand and giving it a squeeze. "I'm sorry. Y'know how I get sometimes; all talk—"

"No filter," Regina finished.

"Sorry," Amí repeated.

A/N: Another itty-bitty. Amí is loosely based off me, because I like imagining what I'd do if I were in the TV shows I watch sometimes. And I do have a verbal filter problem, especially if I'm trying to comfort someone.


	16. Tongue in Cheek

As they left the diner, Regina caught Amí's arm in a biting vice-grip, hissing, "Is your face sore?"

Amí raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Your tongue was so far into your cheek I thought it was going to burst through!" Regina growled. It was amazing, Amí observed, how her voice could portray such anger and fierce disapproval, while, in the same instant, her eyes were filled with pain and betrayal and—Amí's stomach dropped—embarrassment.

Shit. She'd done it again. _Damn me and my stupid mouth,_ she thought, covering Regina's hand with her own and turning them down the street. Patrons of the diner had started to notice the Queen and her faun's pause at the bottom of the front steps.

"I'm sorry," she said when they were several steps down the sidewalk. "I know I keep saying that and I know you're getting tired of hearing it, but I am. I can't help it; it—it's how I deal with things…like this."

A/N: Another of Amí talking too much. My guess is they ran into Robin in the diner and she opened her mouth.


	17. Red

"Come here, child," bid the Queen, holding out on hand in invitation. A soft smile curved her usually scowling lips and her eyes shone with an almost gentle glow.

The little girl looked from the peasant woman beside her to her Queen, as if weighing her options. The woman gave an infinitesimal shake of her head; the Queen was dangerous, _evil_, nothing good would befall her if the little girl went to her.

"You must be freezing," pressed the Queen, crooking her fingers once or twice. "Come here and I'll see what I can do about warming you up."

The little girl took a hesitant step forward at the idea of being anything more than frostbitten, but the woman's hand shot out and closed around her thin wrist.

The scowl was back. "You would defy your Queen?" Her Majesty hissed dangerously.

"We wouldn't waste Your Majesty's valuable time," replied the peasant woman, keeping tight hold of the girl's wrist. "Surely you have more pressing matters than to attend to one cold peasant girl."

"I will decide how my valuable time is spent." The woman's hand fell away from the girl's wrist as if the skin was burning to her touch, but the little girl only looked from her hand to the Queen, who gently beckoned again.

"Come here, child."

The little girl stepped closer through the snow and dropped an awkward curtsy at her feet. "Your Majesty," she mumbled politely.

The Queen smiled again and knelt to eye level with the girl. "What's your favorite color?" she asked, whispering. Her eyes flicked once to the peasant woman's who dropped her gaze and quickly stepped back out of hearing range.

The girl seemed to think for a moment. "Red!" she decided with a toothy grin.

"Red; let's see…." The Queen raised her hands to the girl's shoulders and squeezed lightly. A shimmering gold aura surrounded them momentarily, and when it cleared the girl was wrapped in a beautiful scarlet cloak with a hood tied securely under her chin. The woman gasped and began muttering prayer after prayer for protection against magic.

"How's that?" the Queen asked, cocking her head slightly to look the little girl in the eye under her hood.

The little girl grinned up at her, replying happily, "I haven't been this warm since summer!"

The Queen's rare wide smile mirrored the little girl's as she rose and dusted her gown free of snow and dirt. "That cloak will last you for as long as you need it. It won't tear or unravel, and it will _always_ keep you warm."

The girl smiled and rocked forward on her toes, about to take another step closer, but she froze, eyes going wide and fearful, and she looked hurriedly up at the Queen. "Thank you, Your Majesty." she said quietly, dropping her chin to look at her feet.

The Queen stepped forward and loosely wrapped her arms around the girl's shoulders. "You're welcome, my child."

The captain of the guard cleared his throat, a respectful reminder that Her Majesty was in fact wasting valuable time and the really must be going. The Queen stepped back from the peasants and turned to enter her carriage.

As the royal company rolled away, the Queen (in an unprecedented display of unladylike-ness) stuck her head out the window of her carriage, calling, "What is your name, little girl?"

The little girl ran after the carriage, new red cloak whipping behind her. "Eugenia!" she cried.

A/N: I do love little plot twists. Just something to think about.


	18. I Knew it was You

"Mom!" Henry slid on his knees the last foot to her side, no doubt scraping his skin on the icy pavement, but none of them could bring themselves to care at the moment. He frantically pressed his lips to her forehead and sat back, eyes lighting up when—

Regina didn't move. And the cold was spreading.

Roland crashed into him, weeping openly, having escaped Tuck's shocked grasp. "'Gina, wake up!" he wailed, pressing sloppy little boy kisses all over her face.

Snow let out a sob, falling from Charming's arms and cradling her step mother's face in her hands. "Please…" she whispered.

Nothing. No matter what anyone did, the cold spread further, deeper into Regina's heart.

Even Granny tried, despite her arthritic knees, adding a desperately hissed, "Wake _up_, girl."

Only a single lock of dark hair, of _Regina's _hair remained when Henry looked up from the small pile of people and begged, "Please, Robin. Please help my mom."

Robin's stomach roiled. He couldn't let her die. Not like this, not without her knowing—He was going to tell her when it was all over, make a big romantic speech she'd probably roll her eyes at but later quietly admit that she'd enjoyed every minute of. _That's _what was supposed to happen today, not this. The sight of her lying there, skin fading from sunny olive into frosted blue by the heartbeat, hair whiter than the snow that pillowed her head, froze him in his boots.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't lose her.

But he couldn't move, either. Why the bloody hell couldn't he _move_?

The answer came from his wife.

"Just kiss her, Robin." Marian said softly, a sad smile making the tears in her eyes glisten. He could never bear it when she cried. "It's alright."

He stared at her for a moment, a millisecond, before he was crunching through the snow to her, taking her in his arms and holding her, one last time. "I loved you," he whispered.

"I know," she breathed, and he could hear the tears falling. "But you _love_ her, and you have to save her."

Roland's panicked "_Papa_!" pulled him from her embrace and back to Regina's side. Snow soaked through his jeans as he bent and gathered her gently to his chest, wiping the hair that was not quite hers away from her face.

His kiss wasn't long, or passionate, or even very big. It was like everything they were, simple and easy and just _right._ He felt a gust of warmth followed immediately by a strong breeze ruffle his hair and blow hers under his nose.

Snow and the boys were knocked back onto their rears as the magic—_their_ magic—shot out from them, melting the snow and ice and returning Storybrooke to its original, if a little soggy, state.

"I knew it was you." A quiet voice said in his ear. Arms wrapped around his neck (several did, actually, but he only noticed the first) and he tucked his head into her neck and allowed himself this moment to just be.

_Hers_.

A/N: It just sort of popped into my head yesterday; what would happen if one or the other of Outlaw Queen got their heart frozen? Which made me think of Idina Menzel. Which made me think of _Enchanted_. And then this happened.


	19. Watch Your Step

"Watch out, there's a deep puddle right—"

_Splash!_

"—there!"

Regina gritted her against a squawk, glaring at Amí, who blushed sheepishly.

"Tried to tell you, dear, sorry."

Regina rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to shake her sodding her foot like a cat. Her hand lifted to magic the water away, but Amí caught her arm.

"Ah ah. Remember what Rumple said."

"It's just a simple drying spell, Amí, I'm not poofing myself anywhere." The Queen shook the faun's grip off and completed the sweeping motion. Her foot and shoe were instantly dry, as was her mouth as dizzying wave of nausea overtook her. She stumbled against Amí with a pained gasp, hand going to her stomach.

"_Regina_," growled the faun, wrapping one arm around her waist to support her and taking her free hand. "I told you—"

"I know," groaned Regina. "I know, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," muttered Amí, looking at her surroundings. It was a quieter part of quiet Storybrooke, between the docks and the clock tower square. She spotted a park bench just down the sidewalk and gently turned Regina in its direction. "Think you can make it over there?"

Regina gulped down a deep breath and nodded. "Slowly."

Amí squeezed her hand gently. "Of course."

A/N: I walked through a puddle in flip-flops last night.


	20. Love

"Love. You can show it to me tomorrow," Regina added as she receded from his doorway.

"Love, Mom."

"Love. Did I say that?" She poked her head around the door again, a small smile glinting in the darkness.

"Yeah. Love," Henry repeated, matching her smile.

A/N: Just something my mom and I say when we go to bed. Or…whenever, really.


	21. Musings

"You know…" Regina played with Robin's right hand, turning it over in her and inspecting all the little grooves and imperfections, the marks of a life spent out of doors and many…intense situations. She traced the outline of his tattoo with a gentle fingertip, smiling softly to herself.

"Hm..?" Robin was still half asleep, but a smile slowly crept across his face at her touch.

"I was just thinking," she began again, shifting to face him. Her smile grew at the sight of his sleep-tousled hair falling into his closed eyes. "We could stay in bed all day…."

One eye cracked open, a chip of ice blue in the soft morning light. "All day, hm?" His hand turned in hers, gripping and dragging her closer for a kiss. And another, and another.

Regina laughed softly and let go of his hand to wrap her arms around his neck. Her fingers knotted themselves in his hair, tilting his head to the right.

Robin moaned and put his hands to her sides, stroking gently. "I think that's an amazing idea," he said into her neck.

A/N: And that, ladies and gents, is probably as close as we'll ever come to smut in this little collection.


	22. Dreams

"What constitutes as a good dream?" Amí was grinning at her, green eyes gleaming devilishly.

Regina rolled her eyes, not looking at her. "Don't look at me like that," she huffed.

"How am I looking at you? You can't even see me."

"I have excellent peripheral vision. Don't look at me like that."

Amí giggled.

A/N: Just a little bit of conversation between Her Majesty and her faun companion. They're probably talking about Robin.


	23. Long Hair Probs

"Now I remember why I made everyone's hair shorter with the curse," Regina grumbled, lifting her heavy dark hair off the back of her neck and sighing as the breeze—such as it was—cooled the slightly damp skin.

"Yes, I'm beginning to appreciate that," Snow agreed, mirroring her stepmother and fanning herself, making for quite the awkward picture.

"I don't want to hear it from either of you," Ruby growled, stalking by the pair.

A/N: Just something I can see Lana and Ginny doing on set. Very carefully, I'm sure.


	24. Grandma

"Alright, _Grandma,_" Emma quipped, eyes gleaming.

Regina whirled, a snarl curling her lips as she shot back, "If you _ever_ want to curl your hair again, you'll never say that again."

The others snickered b_e_hind their hands and she tried to keep the muffled sounds from quirking her lips upward. Her resolve lasted but a moment.

"Oh whatever," she grumbled, tossing her hair. "This family's confusing enough as it is, call me whatever you want."

"Don't give us any ideas, sister," Grumpy growled teasingly, starting their laughter again.


	25. Tacos

Henry and Roland were just arriving home after a day of the older boy showing his new brother around town when they discovered something…unusual in the living room.

Their parents. _Together._

Henry jumped ahead of his little brother, quickly blocking his view of the room. "Why don't you head upstairs, Roland? I'll bring you a snack in a minute, okay?"

Roland wanted to tell Regina and his papa about the birds he'd seen at the beach, and said so, but at Henry's insistent—and a little desperate—look, he mumbled, "Okay…."

"Thanks, kid." Henry ruffled his curly hair as the little boy went by and steeled himself to turn around. He only hoped they'd heard his diversion of Roland and…stopped.

Nervously clearing his throat, the way too experienced for his age boy called, "Mom, I'm home!"

A gasp and a muttered curse answered him. "H-hello, sweetheart," started his mother, coming around the corner as she straightened her dress and hair. She couldn't do anything about the weakness in her knees and the flush on her cheeks. "How was your walk with Roland?"

"Good. It was good." he replied, feeling _very _awkward. He knew what was to be asked next, could feel the words rising in his throat, and wished he was anywhere but where he was. "How was your day?" he half choked as Robin came around the corner, tucking his button down shirt into his jeans. They nodded, jerkily, to one another.

Regina seemed to have sensed Robin's presence and the blush on her cheeks deepened. "It was good."

"Good," Henry squeaked, looking at the floor.

They stood awkwardly silent for a moment, studiously not looking at each other.

Regina, coming to the conclusion that she was to be the adult of the situation, cleared her throat to get the others' attention and changed the subject, "What would you like for dinner, dear?" We'll need to get started soon."

It was out of his mouth before he could think to think about it.

"Tacos."

"Tacos!" came the echo from halfway up the stairs.

A/N: The second closest we'll ever get to smut…. In which Henry has figured out euphemisms.


End file.
